Dramione Drabbles
by fyren galan
Summary: Original title, eh? Draco/Hermione drabbles that aren't a part of the 'Impress Her with...' series.
1. An Insight to Draco Malfoy

An Insight to Draco Malfoy

Draco had a love-hate relationship with most things. As in, he loved them, or he hated them.

But she… she was different. He remained indecisive about the whole situation.

Sometimes he adored her (usually when she wasn't talking) and sometimes he loathed her (usually when she was talking).

Sometimes he felt like her father, usually when she was on their Common room floor, after some idiot let her drink an entire bottle of firewhiskey. And he would hold her hair while she repeatedly vomited, and stroke her hair while she cried about being so stupid. And he always brought her a Hangover Potion the morning after, and scolded her. Then she would kiss him with her nasty morning breath, and thank him.

He didn't feel entirely like her father in _that _moment.

Sometimes he would feel infinitely younger than her, like when he was sulking about an Exceeds Expectations instead of an Outstanding, or rot to that effect. And she would turn on him eyes filled with the wisdom of the ages, and remind him that there were worse things in the world. And he saw terrible beauty in her, and he trembled.

He couldn't quite bring himself to sleep with her on those nights.

Sometimes they would have silly spats about his choice of shampoo, or her habit to leave chewed quills wherever she worked. And sometimes those fights would last for ages, and he would sulk in Blaise's trundle bed, and then one day, he wouldn't remember what they had fought about. So they would make peace.

Sometimes she tried to make dinner for him, after he was tired and sick of First Year's breaking curfew on his patrol. And it would inevitably explode, because she was convinced Muggle cooking techniques and spells combined would work one day. And he would arrive home to find a sobbing Hermione, a black smoke pouring from the kitchen, and a helluva lot of happy house elves. And he would comfort her, and they would laugh together, and eat a delicious meal, courtesy of house elves. And then they would make love, and it would be marvellous, and wonderful, gloriously freeing.

Sometimes he would suspect her of cheating on him, a lowly ex-Death Eater. And she would protest, and scream. And he would reflect her tearful denials against his tightly-locked heart. As if one of the Saviours of the Wizarding World would love evil personified. And he would endure days of her absence in his life, glaring at her by day, sleeping with his arms tightly wrapped around her pillow by night. And eventually, he would realise he was the most fucked-up person in the world, and sometimes he should listen to both actions and words. And she would distrust him for a while, but one day, he looked at her, and saw Love.

He never doubted again.

A/N: From now on, this series will sometimes be a continuation of Impress Her with…, and it will sometimes be me coming up with an idea about Draco and/or Hermione. Basically, whatever the hell I feel like posting.


	2. A Different Path

A Different Path

"Can I not just have one night of apathy?" she cried desperately.

The faces stared at her, unchanging.

They answered as one, "You have to fit the mold. Become perfect, like us. All undesirable parts must go."

She screamed and tried to fight the multiple arms that dragged her down, but Perfection was too hard to resist.

Hermione sank through the pool for the last time. She emerged as Hermione Granger, Head Girl.

Perfect…

ly soulless.

Hermione woke in a sweat.

She might reconsider taking the Head position…

A/N: Kinda creepy, yeah? I'm starting to do different genres than romance, so suggestions/criticism would be welcomed.


	3. His Greatest Fear

His Greatest Fear

Draco Malfoy was never one to cite his faults. Or his weaknesses.

He often pretended like he didn't have an Achilles' heel, as to keep up his god-complex of arrogance.

But deep in Draco Malfoy's soul, he knew that there was one thing that could rip his life apart.

He constantly watched what he said, what he did. He controlled his conscious and unconscious movements. He made sure that he fit the mold of the perfect man, friend, and lover.

But still, in the recesses of his mind, he knew that one day it would happen. One day, he would crack, and explode, and the true him would resurface, and he would ruin months of self control in a single moment.

But until that day, he resolved to try harder and strive higher. His acting got better and better until he actually believed he was that person sometimes.

But it plainly wasn't enough. More often than not, when she looked at him, he saw flashes of discontentment. So he would dig deeper into his persona, and deeper still.

Finally, the day came. He was so dug into his false self that he never saw it coming.

He clenched the note tightly in his fist. As he smoothed it out for another intense study, he had the foolish hope that he had somehow read it wrong.

_Draco, _

_You and I both know that this wouldn't last forever. And I can't stay with someone who doesn't exist. Forgive me, but I don't regret this. I hope that you can be happy someday. If not, I hope that you can be real. _

_-H_

His whole world and his entire demise could fit in the palm of his hand. How ironic was that?

So all of his years of subterfuge and molding had actually brought his greatest fear into being: she had left him, because he simply wasn't good enough.

His death sentence faded into black stains, as his tears marred the crumbled parchment.

A/N: Written for the prompt: What is Draco's greatest fear? I was originally going to do something like polyester, but I tried something more serious instead. Thoughts?


	4. His Second Greatest Fear

His Second Greatest Fear

Sometimes he didn't know why he put up with her.

Sure, she was a lioness in bed, could hold interesting conversation, shared his interests, and fed him pretty compliments.

But this outweighed all of those. It was worse than the time he had seen her in her dirty cotton undies. Far worse.

He didn't think she saw his face, frozen in a mask of horror, or his shocked gasp. No, she was far too busy twirling to give him the full view of that… _thing_.

He was deathly afraid of it. It was nasty, it looked like a torture device, and it was clearly a bargain item.

She finished her rotation, looked at him happily, and asked, "Well? What do you think of my new outfit?"

He attempted to speak, and couldn't, as his mouth had gone dry with dread. He cleared his throat a few times, shook his head tragically, and spoke.

"I'm never letting you go shopping with Weaslette again. And that's final. Now excuse me, as I have to go desecrate our toilet with my vomit."

And he practically ran to the loo.

She was left, standing in the middle of their common room, sadly muttering to his nonexistent person.

"But Gin said you would like my polyester jumpsuit…"

A/N: ATTACK OF THE CHEAP FABRICS! Hehe. Written for Umbridgeskitty, who requested the other version of 'His Greatest Fear.'


	5. Shades of Light and Darkness

Shades of Light and Darkness

She had dreamt of this moment for years. The one where her knight would sweep her away from her desolate life, and she would be surrounded by light.

That was what she dreamed of. Light, sparkling everywhere. Gold reflecting off shining surfaces. Laughter, as freely flowing as the sunbeams. A place where no shadows could hide, and try to take her away from her utopia.

But, as the name utopia suggests, the best dreams collapse into nothingness, and she would wake in the darkness. Eyes straining for any bit of illumination in her obscurity. But it was never there.

And so she went on living, or at least existing, in her little corner of hell. And slowly, she stopped dreaming of radiance. Piece by piece, dusk would eat away at her glorious picture, until nothing was left.

On the night she dreamed entirely in shadows, He came.

And he lifted her on his gleaming horse, and they rode away together.

At last, they reached his marvelous Manor. And he gently helped her off his mount, and swept his arm across the landscape, displaying the beauty.

She stood there with tears in her eyes, and he suspected them to be of joy. He thought they would live together eternally, in a time of dazzling and ever-glowing happiness.

Her tears kept coming as she gazed at her dream-come-true.

If only he had come a day sooner.

Then she could've seen it in color.

A/N: I wonder if you have noticed that my stories are either manically happy or incredibly depressing.

I tend to have wild mood swings, so I write when either mood hits me. So, I'm sorry if you don't like one side of my stories, but I can't really help it.


	6. Hermione Takes the Piss

WARNING: This is a kind of disturbing, kinky story about pee. It's really weird, and it has a half-way lemon. Ye have been warned. ;)

Hermione Takes the Piss

Her life was often controlled by her massive and sudden urges to pee.

Some people might see this as a bad, even mortifying, thing; but she saw it as a gift.

After all, if it wasn't for her weak bladder, they never would've spent so much time together.

She would be in class, or patrolling the halls, when she would unexpectedly have to rush to the loo. And it happened every single day. At different times, so that she couldn't anticipate it. She swore her body did it on purpose, just to laugh at her rushing through the halls holding her crotch. Certainly the rest of the student body did. In fact, the Seventh Year boys had a pot going to see how long she could hold it before snapping. Most bets placed were under the time limit of 7 minutes. They did not hold much faith in her self-control. Pity.

On one of her unforeseen trips to the girls' room, she was scolding a kinky Fifth Year for trying to have sex with a suit of armor. She was about to give the girl a detention, when her Piss Timer went off. She scurried off quickly, and the girl immediately returned to humping the knight.

She hurtled through the nearest bathroom's door, and halted. This was odd. She had never seen a bathroom in Hogwarts with only one stall. One bloody occupied stall. Blast! This was the only bathroom on the floor, and she had less than three minutes until she blew (metaphorically speaking, of course).

By the sounds of it, two people were currently using the same toilet, and either having a fucking good time, or really bad constipation. Normally, Hermione would wait the people out, take off points for untidy uniforms, inappropriate conduct, and public indecency. This time, she simply pounded on the door, and screamed, "This better be a quickie! I have to piss like the Loch Ness Monster, so get the fuck out!"

The groaning stopped for about five seconds, and then started up more heavily. Hermione growled in frustration, and kicked in the damned door.

Against the wall, an unknown girl was being fucked into oblivion by Draco Malfoy.

Usually, Hermione would've thought the sight of Malfoy thrusting in and out, sweat shining on his glorious brow, to be quite erotic. This time, she merely thought his arse was blocking her way to the toilet. So she Levitated them out into the hallway, and locked the bathroom door.

She relaxed, and enjoyed the sounds of screams and gasps outside the room. It was almost like music, if you ignored the language.

The second time, she found the same disturbing Fifth Year giving a blowjob to a house elf. It was so disgusting that Hermione was going to move beyond a Stern Talking To, and speak to the girl's head of house about seeking professional help. Or a strong sedative. She had just asked the girl's name, when her legs automatically locked together, and she started squirming.

Hermione raced down the hallway, calling to the girl, "Don't touch anything sexually while I'm gone!"

The girl stared speculatively at the bound elf, and murmured, "You're not any_thing_. You're any_one_." And she happily returned to her previous position.

Hermione burst through the entry, and stopped short. This was the second bloody bathroom in a week with only one compartment. And this one was also filled!

By the sounds of it, Draco and his fuckee were there again.

This time, she really had to go, so she wasn't going to worry about formalities. Like, say, "Hello. I will now kick down your door. Prepare yourself."

She positioned her foot towards the wood, and aimed. It bounced off. She felt a sharp tingling through her leg, and then it went numb. Damn him! Alohamora-ing the door was sneaky, but she was better, and more desperate.

After a small explosion, she found him, with yet another girl, staring pensively at her. She laughed, and replied, "You can't lock a blown-up door."

And she Levitated the couple into the hallway, locked the main door, and quickly found her rhythm to the intermittent cries.

Malfoy looked rather cute when he was thoughtful. But it wasn't like that happened very often.

The third and fourth times were much like the first two. She would catch the same damned girl doing something horrifically sexual to some magical creature, she would have to pee, she would barge in on Malfoy and some harpy, and she would piss to the sounds of yells.

The fifth time, she had caught the girl masturbating on top of Snape's desk.

Really, there were no words for how deeply wrong that was.

Once she got her voice back (from the shock), she was going to ask something to the effect of, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

But alas, her bladder prevented this potentially informative conversation. She sprinted towards the nearest lavatory, and called out to the door, "Don't let Snape catch you!"

The girl watched Hermione dash away, and then started again. She bet Snape would like it, anyway.

Hermione panted her way through the entrance, and reached the solitary stall. She rested her hand on it to help her catch her breath, and it swung open. She gasped softly.

Malfoy was alone, gently and furiously stroking himself. Moaning her name. Opening his eyes when he heard her small noise. Staring at her with stormy eyes. Coming while she watched. It was unexpected, rather like her urges, and she was startled by the fact that she no longer had to empty her body of its liquids.

In fact, she kind of felt like copying the disconcerting Fifth Year.

She thought he saw something to that effect in her gaze, because he swooped upon her tenderly and fiercely.

She raised trembling hands to clutch at his outer robes. God, and she had thought peeing was satisfying. It was nothing compared to his tongue lightly tracing her lips, and his hands trailing up and down her sides.

She soon found herself being fucked into oblivion like the first time she had walked in on Malfo–Draco!

And somehow they arrived in the middle of the corridor, and McGonagall was bellowing disappointments at her, and the kinky girl was there staring at them hungrily.

But the only thing Hermione could think of was Draco. Resting his forehead on her own, and whispering, "Do you know how many bathrooms I cursed so this could happen?"

She found herself rather fond of bathrooms, curses, and kinkiness from that moment on.

A/N: So, this has to be the weirdest crack-like fic I've ever written.

I was just doing my homework, and had to piss like no other. And then it was like, PLOT BUBBLE! You either like it, or it creeps the hell out of you. :]

Oh. Why does Hermione pee so much? Ernie Macmillan cursed her for not going to Hogsmeade with him. Those nasty Hufflepuffs. :]


	7. Your Head's Too Bloody Hard

Your Head's Too Bloody Hard

Hermione had never imagined they would be discovered this way.

She had thought of frantic touching in broom closets, doors being ripped open, outraged cries of, "How could you!"

She had dreamt of him sweeping her off her feet in the middle of the Great Hall, and kissing her passionately. They would stop sweetly and gently, and blush an attractive shade, whilst the population of Hogwarts cheered them into another kiss.

She had worried over them fucking in the Slytherin changing room, and the entire Quidditch team entering in the middle of her loudest orgasm.

But she had never suspected they would be found by a bloody enchanted piece of paper.

* * *

Harry and Ron bent their heads anxiously over the Marauder's Map.

"Are you sure she said she would be in the library?" Harry asked. "Maybe she said the… owlery or something, and you just heard her wrong."

Ron shook his head ferociously. "I am _positive_ she said she was going to the library! I would stake Percy's life on it!"

Dean lazily raised his head from an armchair, and said, "Ron, you prat. Last night you staked Percy's life on whether Pig could shit more than Hedwig. Try something a bit more important, yeah?"

He glared at him, and replied, "Well, then. I stake your life on it. How do you feel about that, you silly little boy?"

Dean was about make a terribly funny yet cruel comeback, when Harry shouted, "There! I see her bubble! But, what is she doing in the corner of the library with… _Malfoy?!_"

Ron knocked his and Harry's head together in an effort to look more closely at Malfoy's point. After several minutes of, "Ow! Your head's too bloody hard!"

(A/N: Heheheheh. What can I say? Back to the head! :])

the boys reconvened to look at the map. What they saw shocked them enough that they were reduced to screaming like pansies.

"Look at that! They're touching! Their dots are touching!" Harry shrieked.

Ginny, overhearing this, walked over and slapped Harry.

"Pervert!" she cried angrily. "Watching lesbian porn when _I'm _here!"

* * *

A/N: Think about it. Let's say, Harry doesn't speak too clearly and Ginny doesn't hear too well. What word kind of sounds like 'dots' to make Ginny have this reaction?

I await your kinky responses breathlessly! :] Thank you for all the reviews!


	8. Attack of the Hermione Lovers

Attack of the Hermione Lovers 

Hermione bet none of these stupid little people ever knew she read their stupid little stories.

Otherwise, they never would've written rubbish like this.

How could she, the person bloody well willing to _die_ for her best friend, not accept the fact that he wanted to date Draco Malfoy?

How could she date Ron, who while being her best mate, was about as good for shagging as her toaster was?

How could she have perfectly glossy and sleek locks of chestnut, and the svelte figure of a supermodel? Had these people ever seen her hair or her thighs? She thought not.

How could certain insipid, talentless, _specks_ on the surface of the world suggest that she was an ugly shrew who ruined other people's lives, and should make it her occupation to go die in a dark and never-ending hole?

How could they?

On a side note, how could they suggest she would ever make out with Ginny because Ron thought it was hot? For that matter, why was she kissing Ginny at all? Brainless stick whose legs had more substance than her conversation? Yeah, Hermione certainly would lock her lips on a lass like that. Idiots.

She could understand Draco, Professor Snape, and even Harry sometimes. But Dumbledore, she shuddered over. And then vomited a bit. Alright. She threw up for a bloody hour after she read, _'Hermione writhed on the bed at the sight of Dumbledore's huge prick. She was so ready to have it in her. Dumbledore chuckled and said, "Not yet, my dear girl. At the age of 172, I need a little… incentive to help me keep this bugger up." Hermione eagerly took it into her mouth and began to suck…' _

There were some sick, sick people out there.

And that was all she had to say on that subject.

On the other hand, there were some stories about her, and a certain blond Head Boy that made her squirm incessantly in her chair. In a good way.

Now, she really didn't think that the Founders of Hogwarts would be dumb enough to make two horny teenagers share a bathroom, but hey. If people wanted to write lovely stories about steamy shower sex, Hermione would give them permission.

As long as she had a svelte form.

She rather thought Malfoy would scream at the sight of her real thighs.

A/N: So, I was just bored, and reading reviews of other people's horrible stories, because I want just one person to say, "Wow. That sucked." instead of: "OMFG! That wuz sooooo kewl!!1! U shud totally wrute more storys like thais! Your so funny.

Plus, there was this one review that said Hermione was but a sniveling tagalong by the 7th book, and that made me quite mad.

Therefore, this is the attack of the self-righteous writer. Make of it what you will.

If I have attacked any of your favorite ships, heed this warning:

If you flame me, attempt to write in intelligible English. By that I mean use a spell/grammar check before you submit it. Or you could use your brain. Whichever is faster.

Or in toddler French. I think I could understand that. :]

Oh, and no one has written an old man Dumbledore/Hermione fic. But if you would like to make my day, you could write one for me, so I could laugh my head off.


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